


Table 815

by SaltySweetLicorice



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cruise Ship, Chubby Derek, Chubby Kink, Feeder Stiles Stilinski, Feeding Kink, Initial Dubious Consent, M/M, Stuffing, Waiter Stiles, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltySweetLicorice/pseuds/SaltySweetLicorice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assistant Professor Derek Hale is in desperate need of a vacation and decides to go on a transatlantic cruise. Derek has heard that the average American gains ten pounds on a cruise ship, but he’s certain that’s just an urban legend – until he gets seated at senior waiter Stiles’ table. Day after day Stiles serves him more and more courses and suddenly Derek is no longer certain about a lot of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Table 815

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I learned this from fan fiction, so if some things seem illogical or unrealistic, blame it on my fan fiction research skills ;-).
> 
> This story explores the topic of feeding kink and chubby kink, so if that's not your thing, please don't read it. 
> 
> This will be a two-parter.

_Day 1_

Going on a cruise had never been something that Derek had been particularly interested in, yet here he was, boarding the Queen Victoria transatlantic cruise headed from London to New York City. An assistant professor of history at the University of California Irvine, Derek had been on the academic fast track ever since he had finished his Bachelor’s, immediately moving on to a Master’s and then to a PhD. Having taught at UC-Irvine for a couple of years he was about to begin his tenure track and finally his family had put their collective foot down, demanding that he take at least a small vacation before throwing himself head-first into the time-consuming tenure track process.

He had claimed that he was too busy to look for a vacation and so his sisters Laura and Cora had taken the matter into their well-manicured hands and booked him on this 16-day cruise. Eight whole sea days, one day in Scotland, one day in Ireland, two days in Iceland, one day in Greenland, and two stops in Canada, before the ship arrived in New York, where he would spend another night on the ship before disembarking and flying back to California. They had also booked him into a hotel in London for three days and Derek had protested vehemently when he had seen the three-week itinerary. It wasn’t that he didn’t need the vacation, he knew himself well enough to recognize that he was edging on the verge of total exhaustion and had done so for months, but three weeks sounded like a lot, especially since he was travelling by himself.

His sisters had dismissed his protests easily, arguing that he was bound to meet many interesting people on a transatlantic cruise and that he could spend his time reading history books about Iceland, Greenland, and Ireland if he absolutely had to.

“Besides,” his mother had added when they had dropped him off at the airport, probably to make sure he would actually board the plane, “the average American gains something along the lines of ten pounds on a two week cruise, and you definitely need to eat more so this will be perfect.”

Derek had taken her concern in stride – he knew that his mother fussed over the sharp angles of his face constantly and was convinced that it was unhealthy to only consist of muscle mass, but Derek needed the time at the gym, afraid that he was going to go out of his mind if he didn’t blow off some steam frequently. He had already checked the gym facilities of the ship online and was happy to find that he could at least continue his almost daily training.

The ship was quite large and offered many quiet seating areas, which Derek, whose stateroom didn’t have a balcony, appreciated. He had arrived fairly early and a look at the cruise card told him that he had been booked for the second dinner seating at 8:45 PM each evening, therefore Derek decided to go to his room and take a nap, still feeling a little jetlagged despite his three fast-paced days in London.

The room had two single beds on each side and he decided to ask the steward to combine them into one double bed, giving him more room to toss around during the night and also making him feel less alone. It was one thing to sleep in a big bed by himself but quite another thing to see an empty bed next to his every night. The steward gave him a curious look when he made the request and Derek felt a bit annoyed at the assumptions the man seemed to be making. He decided to ignore it, although he was suddenly much less inclined to give a decent tip to the man at the end of the cruise.

He ended up taking a three-hour nap, barely giving him time to get dressed and make his way to the restaurant in order not to miss dinner, his planned exercise session at the gym postponed for the day afterwards. He was the last one to arrive at the table and he couldn’t help but wince when he saw the people he had been paired up with. It was a table for six people, two couples and an older lady, who ended up sitting next to Derek.

The first couple actually turned out to be quite nice – they were both lawyers and taking a last vacation for two before the arrival of their baby in four months. The second couple Derek found himself barely tolerating within the first five minutes of the dinner conversation. The husband was extremely obnoxious and the wife seemed to be a prude with no sense of humor, and they kept interrupting each other, both trying to talk at Derek at the same time and making it impossible for him to understand anything they were saying.

The old lady was taking her 52nd cruise with the company and within ten minutes Derek had been informed of every single benefit you got as a platinum member, complete with the shiny golden VIP-Guest button she was wearing on her shirt. He had never been more grateful to be rescued from a conversation when their waiter, a lanky, tall man who seemed to be about five years younger than Derek, marched over to their table.

“Hi, my name is Stiles and I will be taking care of you during this cruise. I’m sorry I let you wait for so long but we were having some issues with one of the other guests in this section …” he trailed off, probably remembering that he wasn’t allowed to complain about guests to other guests. Derek liked him already.

“The menu is excellent tonight, if you cannot make up your mind don’t hesitate to tell me and I will choose for you – I pride myself on having good instincts for what people want,” he continued, his bright eyes twinkling and Derek actually believed him. The assistant waiter with the bread bowl arrived and Derek chose a sesame roll, immediately cutting it up, slathering it with butter and sprinkling it with salt and pepper. He hadn’t eaten in over eight hours and felt like he was close to starving and when he looked up, Stiles winked at him.

“Next time, try the cheese, herb, and garlic knot,” he advised, indicating towards the retreating assistant waiter to return once more. Before Derek could respond, Stiles had already selected a particularly large knot and put it on his bread plate, before focusing on the older lady and taking her order.

Normally Derek wouldn’t have gone for a second roll, but Stiles was right, the bread looked delicious and the smell wafting from it was actually mouthwatering, so he took a small bite, finding that he didn’t even need to smear butter on top of it. Absentmindedly he looked at the menu, trying to decide what he wanted to eat. There were three different appetizers, three different soups and salads, three different middle courses and five different entrees, followed by a selection of ten different desserts. All of them sounded delicious and he was trying to decide which combination would work the best together when Stiles stepped next to him expectantly. With a start Derek realized that he was the only one left to order and he gave Stiles a contemplative look, tapping his fingers against his chin.

“What would you recommend?” he finally asked, deciding to take the man’s offer of choosing for him and Stiles smiled brightly, before taking the menu from Derek.

“I’ll put together something good for you, don’t you worry,” he promised, sounding suspiciously enthusiastic and Derek suddenly wondered whether he was going to be served frog legs or anything of the sort.

He continued nibbling at his bread roll to have an excuse not to talk to the rest of the people at his table, finding that the old lady next to him – Charlotte, Charlie to her friends – had no problem in dominating the conversation. Susan and Jason, the lawyers, were listening politely, while Robert and Lucy, the ever-arguing couple, were bickering amongst themselves about Robert’s food choices.

When the appetizers arrived Derek was pleasantly surprised to find that he was very much in the mood for a shrimp cocktail with avocado, lathered in cocktail dressing. A rich lobster soup followed it, as well as a Caesar salad drenched in the creamy dressing, and Derek mused that he would have normally eaten maybe the salad with a third of the dressing and some sort of red meat.

For the middle course Stiles had selected a savory truffle risotto for him and although Derek found himself biting back a moan at the taste, he did resolve to choose his own food the next day. He knew that fat carried a lot of the taste, but the risotto had definitely been prepared with much more butter than Derek would have used and he just couldn’t see himself indulging like that every night.

He was pleasantly full after the risotto and therefore not prepared when Stiles dropped a large steak with creamed spinach and sauce hollandaise on the side in front of him as his entrée. He had never had sauce hollandaise on his steak before and he found the combination to be quite tasty, especially with the creamed spinach. He really was getting pretty full, but the steak was excellent and after the rich risotto Derek needed some protein, so he bravely soldiered on, even when sweat began to pool at his temples.

“How is the food?” Stiles asked when he made his around their table and Derek gave him the thumbs up, unable to say anything because he was chewing the last of the tender meat.

He wanted to tell Stiles to hold the dessert, there was no way he was going to manage one bite after his dinner, but Stiles was already gone again and so Derek ate the last of his spinach and leaned back in his chair, sighing contentedly and feeling kind of sleepy. Susan turned to him and asked him something about the history of Scotland and Derek was happy to satisfy her inquiries, pleasantly surprised to discover how broadly educated she and her husband were.

He was talking so animatedly that he completely missed Stiles clearing away their plates and when he looked down next, there was a huge warm brownie with an obscenely large glob of ice cream sitting right in front of him. Derek groaned.

It smelled amazing and he had always had a weakness for brownies, but there was just no way he could eat anymore without starting to feel sick or at least uncomfortable.

“You should at least try it, it’s amazing,” Stiles commented when he came back to refill their wine glasses and he almost looked disappointed when he saw Derek aimlessly push some of the brownie bits around on his plate.

 _It’s the first night_ , Derek told himself, _you aren’t going to eat like this every night so you might as well indulge yourself for once_ , and it was this reasoning that finally convinced him to take the first bite. As Stiles had promised, the brownie was glorious, a super rich chocolate flavor topped with real Madagascar vanilla ice cream.

Brownies truly were Derek’s weakness, had been since his childhood, and although he was almost uncomfortably full he ended up inhaling the pastry, ignoring the growing tightness in his midsection and the beads of sweat on his forehead.

He regretted his decision to eat the brownie the moment he put the fork down, feeling a little ill after all that sugar and definitely uncomfortably full now. He rested his hand on his stomach and was surprised to find that it was actually pushing out under his ribcage. Derek almost never ate enough to be bloated, the feeling very alien to him and he pushed down experimentally, wincing when he found there was hardly any give.

He wasn’t really in pain but he definitely needed to lie down and so he wished the rest of the table a good night before standing up slowly, his hand draped over his stomach in what he hoped looked casual but was actually supposed to mask how full he was. Judging by the twinkle in Stiles’ eye he wasn’t fooling their waiter and Derek gave the man a slightly embarrassed grin, rubbing his stomach with an apologetic expression on his face.

“It was great but a little too much,” he said and something twitched in Stiles’ expression before he schooled his features back into his hospitable smile.

“As long as it was great,” he said, his voice sounding a little too cheery to be natural, but Derek was quickly slipping into a food coma and too exhausted to dwell on the peculiar interaction. He had planned to take the stairs up to his tenth floor stateroom but the five flights of stairs suddenly seemed like too much and so he waited for the elevator, shaking his head at himself when he stepped inside, still rubbing his stomach.

 _It was ok for the first night, but not again_ , he promised himself as he unlocked his door and dropped down onto the bed. The walking had cleared away most of the queasiness and now Derek only felt exhausted, so he changed quickly, pausing briefly to admire the way his normally flat stomach was protruding from under his ribcage, filled to bursting with delicious food. It was an altogether strange look for him and it made him feel even stranger inside, but he was too tired to dwell on it and soon he fell into a deep sleep, his hand never leaving his stomach.

 

++++++++++++++

 

_Day 2_

 

When Derek woke up the next morning he was surprised to discover he had actually slept past 9 AM, which was sort of unusual for him. He felt more rested than he had in a long time and when he made his way down to breakfast around 9:30 he only had time to grab a banana and an apple in order to make his shore excursion to Loch Ness. He had promised himself that he would not spend unnecessary money on shore excursions, but his inner child just couldn’t pass up an opportunity to look for Nessi and he ended up enjoying the trip more than he would have thought.

They got back to the ship around 6 PM and with a start Derek realized that he had only had that banana and the apple throughout the entire day. He thought about eating something in the 24-hour buffet restaurant, but ultimately decided against it, figuring that he would just wait until dinner. Knowing that a banana and an apple were no solid base for a successful workout session he decided to find a quiet spot to do some reading instead and by the time 8:45 rolled around his stomach was actually growling in protest.

Derek was the first at their table and Stiles placed two garlic knots on his bread plate without comment, laughing softly when Derek immediately bit into the first one and began to slather butter on the second one while still chewing the first one.

“Busy day?” Stiles asked and Derek nodded. He was about to say something when his stomach growled loudly and he blushed, looking up at Stiles sheepishly. The smile on Stiles’ face was fond and he handed him the menu, leaving Derek once again with too much choices. He was so hungry that everything sounded good to him but he remembered the uncomfortable fullness from yesterday’s dining experience all too well and so he told Stiles he was going to have the mushroom soup, the lobster linguine and a fruit salad. Stiles took down his order without comment and Derek frowned when he saw a hint of displeasure on the younger man’s face.

His table companions had arrived by the time Stiles placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of him and Derek couldn’t help but smile when he saw that Stiles had added two additional garlic knots so he would be able to dunk the bread into the soup. Derek didn’t really want to get full on bread alone, but it was just too good to waste and he dunked it into the soup, marveling at the intermingling flavors.

The others got their soups and appetizers and when it was time for the entrees Stiles placed a plate in front of Derek that seemed to hold approximately double the size of a Cheesecake Factory pasta dish portion. None of the others had gotten the pasta dish and so Derek didn’t have a point of comparison, but he was quite sure that Stile had been very, very generous with his plate. He tucked in, marveling at the creamy texture of the sauce and the rich spices the dish had been prepared with.

He still felt ravenous after essentially going all day without eating and he had cleared away more than half of it when he began to feel full again. Even with half of the pasta missing he still had a large amount of food left on his plate and normally he would have gotten a to-go box, but since that was not a custom practiced on a cruise ship, he slipped another spoonful into his mouth, swallowing slowly as he listened to the table conversation.

Robert and Lucy had gone on two different tours because they could not agree on one as a couple and now they were both talking about what they had seen, simultaneously of course. Even Charlie looked annoyed as she was trying to follow both of them and Derek suppressed a relieved grin; he had been worried that he was the only one unable to follow the conversation.

Eating kept him from actually having to talk, so eat he did, edging around the brink of pleasantly full and eventually pushing past it. Charlie finally got a word in and took over the conversation, talking about a Scandinavian cruise she had once taken where all the waiters had been her personal friends because they had known her from ten other cruises and this time Derek actually paid attention to her, not because of the story itself, but because of her descriptions of the Scandinavian landscape. Scandinavia was definitely on his bucket-list and he was actually looking very much forward to their Iceland stop, having heard many good things about the volcanic landscape.

A twinge of pain suddenly shot through his middle and Derek sat his fork down in surprise, feeling a little light-headed when he saw that he had actually finished the enormous plate of pasta while he had listened to the table conversation. He looked down and was not surprised to find his stomach once again sticking out, this time actually straining against the buttons of his navy blue shirt.

 _This can’t be healthy_ , he chastised himself and his stomach seemed to agree, rewarding him with another jolt of pain when he moved around on his chair. Leaning forward to hide the protrusion was not possible and actually made the waistband of his pants pinch into his skin uncomfortably and so he leaned back with a barely audible sigh. His hands were itching to soothe the pain in his middle but he kept them firmly on the table, embarrassed that he had eaten himself into digestive distress for the second time on this vacation.

He raised his eyebrows when Stiles suddenly placed a shot of Sambuca in front of him, sure that the alcohol was not part of the dinner package, but when he looked up to protest Stiles placed a long finger on his mouth and mouthed “Sssssh,” at him.

Derek wasn’t sure whether to feel confused, relieved, or annoyed at the gesture, confusion stemming from the man’s kindness, relief because he really needed the hard liquor to settle his stomach, and annoyed because he was almost certain Stiles had taken liberties with the portion-size of his plate, making the liquor intervention necessary in the first place.

He downed the shot with a barely-there grimace and when he felt Susan’s eyes on him he looked up questioningly. Susan was rubbing her stomach with a rueful grin, nodding towards the shot glass.

“It’ll be quite a while before I can use that cure for over-eating again,” she said, and her position allowed Derek to take in the way her belly curved out, round all the way towards the top and looking surprisingly solid. Then again, she was five months pregnant, he reminded himself and although pregnant women had never done anything for him – for one, he was pretty sure he was almost exclusively gay and secondly, that seemed just too kinky even for his tastes – Derek was surprised to discover that he actually felt aroused when her husband dutifully leaned over and began to gently massage her belly for her.

Not because of the pregnancy – at least he certainly hoped so, because that would make a satisfactory homosexual sex life rather difficult he figured – but because of the way Jason’s hand massaged and kneaded the top of her stomach, the way he brushed his palms down her sides and framed her belly as he rubbed small circles into it.

The alcohol had dulled his own pain somewhat but Derek still felt achy and he definitely would not have said no to a belly rub. He shook his head determinedly, resolved to think about something else because now the images in his head were actually beginning to make him hard and walking out of the restaurant would already be difficult enough because he was so full – he did not want to add the awkward shuffle of hiding an erection to the experience.

When Stiles placed the dessert plates in front of them, Derek was pretty sure he had ordered a fruit salad and not the large slice of Tiramisu in front of him. He looked up to comment as such and Stiles held up his hands in apology.

“We actually seem to be out of the fruit salad,” he said, shrugging his shoulders in a way that seemed to say ‘I have no clue what they’re doing over there’.

“But this is really, really good, it tastes as if you were actually enjoying it in Italy,” he promised and Derek knew it would be a stupid idea to even eat one bite. His stomach was no longer as painful, but still tight and achy, and he could feel his waistband biting into his lower belly with every move he made, but it smelled good and Derek did not have any plans for Dublin, allowing him to finally make a trip to the gym the next day.

 _It’s going to be fine_ , he told himself when the first spoonful entered his mouth. The flavor was incredibly, just the right mixture between chocolate and coffee, and again he found himself eating all of it. When he was finished his hand immediately went to his stomach, no longer ashamed of rubbing it at the table. He pressed his palm against his lower belly and kneaded the top with the other, cursing himself for the way he seemed to have left all of his self-control in London.

Mr. and Mrs. Bickering had already left for the entertainment show and Susan and Jason also excused themselves, leaving Derek alone with Charlie, who was eating her dessert with the pace of a snail. Although he felt like getting up was the last thing he wanted to do Derek managed to push himself up from the table. He was not feeling too well, but definitely not bad enough to listen to at least another half hour of how Charlie had made friends with the Captain of the ship.

Suddenly, Stiles was at his side, the man’s hand hovering over the small of his back but not touching.

“Are you alright?” he asked and Derek nodded, actually managing to smile at the man. He liked Stiles, despite his over-generosity with food.

“I’m alright – just not used to eating this much,” he shrugged and Stiles cocked his head with a sympathetic smile.

“I hope I’m not overstepping, but you do seem the type that’s usually too busy to eat,” he said and Derek nodded.

“You’re not overstepping and your assessment is exactly right. My mother calls me about my cheek bones and my jaw line at least once a month and tells me she wants to see less of them,” he confessed, and Stiles laughed.

“How do you feel about that?” he asked and Derek shrugged again.

“I don’t really care one way or the other I guess? As long as I can still work out and have my energy I maybe could do with some more meat on me to make my mother happy? To be honest, it really doesn’t matter to me,” he mused, wondering why he was sharing these things with a total stranger.

Stiles hesitantly reached out and put his hand on Derek’s shoulder and Derek let him, surprised at how good the simple gesture made him feel.

“I am sure I could help you with that,” Stiles said and although the statement sounded perfectly innocent and logical given his profession, Derek did notice the serious undertone just below the surface, as well as the way Stiles’ eyes seemed to have suddenly become somewhat darker. It must have been a trick of the light.

“I don’t doubt it – just maybe go a little easier on me,” Derek found himself saying, grimacing when his stomach groaned in agreement. He went back to kneading the firm bulge – mindful of the strain it was putting on his shirt buttons – and looked back up at Stiles, whose expression was guarded.

“Of course,” he said, tone devoid of all playfulness and Derek found himself wondering what he had just gotten into. The situation was getting awkward and so he said his goodbyes and slowly made his way back to his cabin.

He had thought about watching the show but he was still in pain and all he wanted was to lie down. Inside his cabin he stripped down to his boxer shorts, not even bothering with his pajamas and laid down flat on his back, still massaging his stomach. Experimentally he brushed his palm over his groin and the arousal he had been fighting for half the night came rushing back full-force, overpowering even the lingering pain from his full stomach.

Derek dug his fingers into his belly as he began to stroke himself with the other, not really surprised when his mind provided him with images of their head waiter massaging his belly, moving further and further down until he had reached Derek’s erection and then taking him into his mouth. Derek came with a soft groan and barely managed to wipe himself clean before he fell asleep.

 

++++++++++++++++

 

_Days 3, 4, and 5_

Derek absolutely didn’t feel guilty, nope, not at all, when he avoided the dining room for the next two nights. They stayed in Dublin until 8 PM and by the time he got back onto the ship after exploring the city by himself he was a little more than pleasantly buzzed after sampling the local Guinness and too full from the beer to think about eating. During the next day at sea he spent the time nursing his hangover and relaxing in his room.

By the time his headache had finally gone away he decided to read up on their next stop in Iceland. When he tore himself away from the book he noticed with a start that it was well over 11 PM and so he ventured outside to grab a quick snack before retiring to his room.

When they arrived in Iceland Derek was mesmerized by the vibrant colors of the soil and greatly enjoyed his excursion to the part of the island where the European tectonic plate met the American one. He spent the entire day nibbling on licorice, enjoying the strong salty taste and quality of authentic Scandinavian licorice and when 8:45 PM came around he was actually hungry for some savory food.

He had debated visiting a local restaurant, but the prices were a little off-putting and so he decided to venture back to the ship. When he got to their table he realized everyone but Charlie had apparently chosen to forego the ships’ menu for a pricy authentic Icelandic dinner and he sat down with a rueful smile, resolving to eat as quickly as possible.

As soon as he was seated, three cheese knots appeared on his bread plate and Stiles clapped him on the shoulder in greeting, smile polite but a little guarded.

“Back again, I see,” he said, and Derek felt irrationally guilty for the hesitation he heard in the younger man’s voice.

“Too much Guinness in Dublin,” he offered in explanation and Stiles smiled in understanding.

“Well, we definitely have something to make up for then,” he announced and Derek raised his eyebrows.

“Surprise me,” he said, not even opening the menu and handing it back to Stiles. The smile on the man’s face gave him a warm feeling in his stomach and he chastised himself for thinking this way. Stiles was a member of the staff, there were strict rules against passenger-staff fraternization, and besides, all their interactions so far had been based on Stiles stuffing him full of tasty food and Derek being unable to say no, which was probably a weird foundation for anything more meaningful than a waiter-guest relationship.

He nibbled on the first bread roll, listening to Charlie talk about the benefits of the platinum member card for the fifth time and soon Stiles served his appetizer, smoked salmon and cream cheese.

It was followed by a green salad and a small bowl of tomato soup and Derek noted with relief that Stiles had decided to skip the middle course today and served him his entrée right after: lamb with rosemary potatoes and grilled vegetables.

This time, Derek felt like he would be able to enjoy the dessert without feeling ill afterwards and his expectations were met when Stiles placed a delicious Crème Brule with red berries in front of him. When he was done he was definitely full but not uncomfortably so and he sighed contentedly, rubbing his belly just for good measure.

“Too much?” Stiles asked him when he returned to clear away the dessert plate and Derek shook his head.

“Just right,” he answered and Stiles grinned at him.

“I guess you wouldn’t be interested in some cheese to finish of your wine then?” he said and Derek contemplated the offer, focusing on how full he actually felt and finally decided that some cheese with the rest of the wine did sound pretty good after all.

“Alright,” he said and Stiles looked surprised, albeit pleasantly so. When he returned with a large selection of cheeses Derek shook his head in fond amusement. He should have known that Stiles wouldn’t be able to pass up the opportunity to go overboard with at least one course again, but today he was definitely not going to finish the plate.

He cut small pieces away from all the cheeses, intent on sampling every single one and testing the flavor combination with the wine. At one point Charlie excused herself from the table and Derek was a little startled to realize that he seemed to be the only one left in Stiles’ section of the restaurant.

With nothing else left to do, Stiles walked up to his table and started to explain where the cheeses came from, launching into elaborate descriptions of which wine went best with which cheese and Derek enjoyed listening to him. He was obviously passionate about food and Derek, who knew little to nothing except the nutritional value of what he put in his mouth, was always interested in learning something new, not realizing that he was close to overdoing it yet again.

This time, it wasn’t pain that alerted him of his state of fullness, but the way his jeans suddenly began to pinch into his belly. Not wanting to be in pain again, Derek tugged his shirt out of his waistband and let it cover his groin area before popping the button of his jeans to get some relief. He should have been horrified when his stomach, no longer constricted by the pants, actually seemed to get larger, not quite surging forward but definitely becoming more pronounced. Instead he was quite fascinated.

Above him, Stiles stopped his lecture on Swiss cheeses and Derek looked at him questioningly, a blush creeping on his face when he realized that Stiles had noticed him undoing the button of his jeans and was currently watching his stomach with the same fascination he was. Derek coughed, feeling uncomfortable, and Stiles’ eyes snapped to his immediately, blushing even more furiously than Derek.

“I told you to tell me if it was getting to be too much,” he said, a strange expression on his face, and Derek shook his head to indicate he was good, feeling strangely excited and also a little weirded out by the waiter’s interest in his food intake.

He looked down towards his plate and was not surprised to discover there was hardly any left, however, since he knew that he actually had to close the button of his jeans again before walking back to his room he pushed the plate away resolutely and downed the rest of his wine in one go. “This was excellent, thank you,” he said and Stiles, whose ears were still bright red, nodded, before he hurried away and left Derek alone.

Derek almost felt like he had been dismissed and it wasn’t a feeling he was particularly fond of. He waited for another minute or so and when Stiles didn’t return he stood up gingerly, trying to suck in his stomach to redo the button and finding himself actually struggling, glad that no one was around to witness it. He succeeded, but only barely, and the walk back to his cabin was definitely uncomfortable, the waistband of his jeans biting into his skin with every step.

He wasn’t too tired yet but he definitely needed to get out of his jeans and so he changed into his sweatpants when he got back to the stateroom, relieved at the loss of pressure. He sat down on the bed, propped his back against the pillows and tried to read, but his attention kept wavering from the book to the way his stomach bulged out in his slouched position and finally he abandoned the book and took off his shirt, intent on examining the damage.

His belly button was deeper than normal and he gently pushed in his finger, shivering when the touch sent sparks up and down his spine. Filing the information away for further notice, he continued to explore, framing his stomach with his hands and grabbing into his skin to form rolls, which proved to be impossible since his stomach was pretty firm. Inexplicably he found himself getting aroused again and this time he imagined himself on all fours, with Stiles holding onto his distended midsection as he was pounding into him and the resulting orgasm put him to sleep pretty soon after.

 

+++++++++++++++

 

_Day 6 and 7_

On the second day in Iceland Derek went out to explore Reykjavik on his own, stopping at a supermarket to stock up on licorice. The ship wasn’t scheduled to leave until 8:30 PM and he decided to have dinner at a local restaurant after all, knowing that he would be angry at himself if he missed the opportunity. He found a small, somewhat hidden restaurant that only locals seemed to frequent and the food was quite tasty, especially the licorice panna cotta with blueberry sauce he couldn’t help but order.

As he walked back to the ship he chuckled to himself when he realized that despite his dinner, which had been a normal portion size for him, he still had an appetite and on a whim he stopped at a kiosk for some more licorice. When he got back to the ship he dropped off his stuff and tried to read for a while, but the feeling that he should eat some more lingered and around 9:30 PM he set the book down and got up, hoping that the buffet restaurant was still open.

It was, although there were barely any people there and since Derek didn’t want to eat alone in the big room he decided to get a plate to take back to his room. He wandered around aimlessly for a couple of minutes, trying to decide what he was in the mood for, and finally stopped in front of the pizza station. Pizza was something he hardly if ever allowed himself, the rich combination of carbs definitely not in agreement with his diet and workout routine, but considering that his family was actually expecting him to gain at least ten pounds during the cruise, Derek decided that pizza would do a good job in helping him accomplish this.

Figuring that they would have probably thrown away the leftovers anyways he decided to be generous, loading up his plate with a large slice of every flavor available and when he walked back to his stateroom he actually felt a little embarrassed, having filled up his plate with the equivalent of a whole large pizza. Then again he probably shouldn’t care what people thought and when he got to his room, thankfully without running into too many people, he sat down on his bed, back propped against the pillows and turned on the television to watch one of the movies on demand.

The first slice of pizza he chose was four-cheese pizza and it was quite delicious, like all the food he had tasted so far on the cruise. Deciding to be very American he had also gotten a bowl of ranch dressing to dip his pizza into and he proceeded to do so with the slice of pepperoni pizza, quite certain he hadn’t had that particular combination ever since he was a child.

When he was four slices in his stomach, still partially full from his dinner and dessert in Reykjavik, started to feel tight and he was starting to become pretty bloated, but since he was in the privacy of his stateroom and didn’t have to walk back through the busy area of the ship, Derek decided to experiment.

The pain he had felt on the first two nights of overeating had been uncomfortable, but not to the degree that he wouldn’t have been able to handle it. Yesterday’s feast had left him feeling very bloated, but not in pain, and Derek suddenly wondered how far he could push himself, how painful his stomach could get until he was forced to stop.

It seemed like the stupidest idea he had ever had, but not being used to over-eating at all he really was curious and besides, tomorrow was a sea-day and he would finally, _finally_ make good on his promise to visit the gym.

The fifth slice went down relatively easily and so did the sixth, but by the time he started on his seventh Derek actually had to stop halfway to massage his stomach, which was pushing out from under his ribcage and sending out twinges of pain. He grabbed his bottle of water and alternated between sips and pizza for a while, hoping that it would help the pizza go down easier and for about two slices the system seemed to work.

Derek made it to piece number nine before he had to stop again, having reached a state of near-constant pain. His belly was throbbing and so heavy that he almost felt like it was weighing him down and he tried to find a position that would offer him some relief, finally deciding to lay down flat on his back and turning off the television, since he was no longer paying attention anyways.

He pushed his sweatpants and underwear, which had begun to cut into his waist, way below his hip bones and the relief was instant, but not nearly enough to soothe the pain. With a groan Derek eyed the last one and a half slices of pizza, curious whether he would actually be able to eat them and keep them down. Not for the first time he wondered if his determination not to do anything halfway was a blessing or a curse when he reached for the rest of his ninth slice, chewing slowly and rubbing circles into his stomach with one hand. He swallowed the last bite with some difficulty and suddenly found it much more difficult to breath, realizing with a start that his stomach was so full it was probably pushing up into his lungs and leaving him short of breath.

He tried to prop himself up on his elbows to get more air but found that he could barely move against the rock-solid mass that was bulging out from where his abs normally were, the movement so painful that he was actually starting to feel nauseous. He sank into the cushions again, trying to take as deep breaths as possible and kneading into his stomach, willing himself not to be sick. Eventually, the nausea subsided and he reached for the last slice, deciding that speed was the key to success and so he folded the pizza like a calzone and ate quickly, finishing the last piece in four bites.

When he was done he closed his eyes, taking in the way his belly was stretched so tight it felt like it was on fire. He trailed his hands up and down the protrusion, pushing his fingers into the flesh experimentally and cataloging the way it was rock hard in some areas and strangely squishy in others. He would have sworn that it was not possible for him to have an erection at this level of pain but his body surprised him, and he felt a thrill of excitement when he actually had to reach around his bulging stomach to grab his erection.

His hand moved rapidly, he needed release badly and he quickly came with a loud groan, caused equally by his orgasm and the painful clenching of his stomach muscles, which sent ripples of pain up and down his belly. Panting, he wiped himself off and lay down on his side, curling himself around his throbbing, distended stomach. He felt heavier than he had ever felt before and although he was incredibly exhausted the pain stopped him from falling asleep.

Half an hour passed with him tossing and turning, trying and failing to find a position that would alleviate some of the pain and he had just decided to try meditating when his abused stomach cramped up so badly that he had to cry out. The agonizing spasms came and went throughout the rest of the night and he finally fell asleep around 5 AM, sweaty and beyond exhausted.

When he woke up it was past noon and he was not surprised to see that his stomach was still a little distended when he got up from his bed. Derek had never felt less like eating in his life and he spent the day in his sweatpants in the ship’s library, sipping a ginger ale to settle his stomach, which still grumbled angrily every now and then, and reading up on the history of Greenland. By the time 8:30 came around he realized two things: first, he had yet again forgotten to go to the gym and second, he was a little afraid of dinner.

The bloat had been gone for good in the early afternoon and he actually felt like he could eat again, but after last night’s binge he was afraid his stomach would go on strike and protest violently against being stuffed full again, no matter how delicious the food was. Five minutes later, he had another, equally startling realization: his pants no longer fit him.

He could still button them, but it was a much tighter fit than normal and when he sat down experimentally, he found that his belly was actually pushing over the waistband. Granted, the jeans had been pretty tight skinny jeans to begin with, but he was genuinely startled to find that only one week had already made that much of a difference.

He unbuttoned his pants again and pushed them over his hips. His fingers pinched the flesh of his midsection and he could actually grab onto the skin there, not quite a roll when he was standing but definitely when he was sitting. With a shrug he buttoned them again and put on his shirt, frowning at the way the lower buttons strained much more than normally.

He walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, examining his face from all angles and although his chin was still as angular as ever, he was almost sure that his cheekbones actually looked a little less defined. His mother would probably be thrilled.

Derek looked at his watch and realized that his little wardrobe crisis had made him five minutes late for dinner already and he quickly made his way out the door, wondering if Stiles would notice that his clothes had gotten a little tighter.

Tonight Stiles had joined some of his colleagues at the entrance to welcome the arriving guests and the widening of his eyes when he saw him told Derek that the different fit of his clothes had definitely not gone unnoticed by him. Stiles swallowed when he passed him and when Derek sat down at their table, suddenly very conscious of the tiny beginning of a muffin top he had begun to develop, he began to wonder if he was starting to imagine things.

It could have been a trick of the light, but Stiles’ eyes had not only widened but also actually seemed to darken in desire and he was certain he must have imagined that. There were strict regulations against guest-crew fraternizations and Stiles seemed too invested in his job to ever jeopardize it.

After yesterday’s stuffing session, Derek had concluded one thing: he wasn’t interested in overdoing it like that again on his own. The orgasm had been pleasant, but definitely not worth the hours he had spent writhing in agony, alone and with no one to either help him soothe the pain with massages or at least distract him. However, he was very intrigued by the idea of trying it with another person, a person that would take care of him during and after.

Now that he was slowly starting to get a handle on where his limits were and how far he could take it before dull, easy to massage away pain turned into grueling agony, he was quite sure that it could be a very erotic experience. Derek had always been big about trust and the idea of letting someone feed him, trusting them to not make him ill and not take advantage of his food-dazed state, appealed to him immensely.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Derek decided to test his theory about Stiles actually getting more than just professional enjoyment out of providing him with food until he was stuffed to the gills. He was going to be subtle about it though – he would probably have to change his table if he was wrong and Stiles thought he was trying to molest him or something by using him to experiment with a fetish.

That it was most definitely, a fetish, which Derek, who had experimented with some Dom/sub aspects in his youth and only stopped because he had become too afraid to accidentally run into students in one of the clubs that he could easily travel to, definitely felt comfortable with.

When Stiles handed him his menu Derek took it from him with a slight smile, perusing his options and coming to a decision. Stiles took the others’ orders first. It was only Susan and Mr. and Mrs. McBicker today, since Jason had a migraine and Charlie, Derek was informed, was invited to some social function with the Captain that only Platinum Members had gotten invitations to. Susan’s eyes met his and they smirked in unison – tomorrow’s table conversation was promising to be quite … riveting.

After the three had ordered Derek held up his menu, shielding his face from the others, who had already begun to talk about their plans for the upcoming Greenland stop.

“I’ll start with the eggplant parmesan, because that’s something I can never say no to. Apart from that, however, I’ll trust you to make the decision for me.” Derek said softly. He had originally wanted to say, “I’ll trust you to feed me well,” but decided it might be too revealing and coming on a little too strong. Still, mentioning that he trusted Stiles with his food intake had already produced the desired effect in the man – Stiles’ smile was wide and genuine and Derek was sure he felt the man’s finger lightly stroke his thumb when he took the menu from his hands.

The eggplant parmesan arrived quickly and Derek took his time, savoring each and every bite. For one, he really did like the dish and secondly, he had reasons for wanting the others to be finished before him. Robert and Lucy were as impolite as they were annoying and always left after they were done, never waiting for the others to finish, and Susan had already apologized to Derek that she would have to leave him soon, because she wanted to make sure her husband was ok. Besides, it gave him the opportunity to play a little, to run his tongue across his lips and lick the fork.

When Stiles passed their table the next time Derek waited until he was walking right behind him to moan around a mouthful of creamy cheese, eggplant, and tomato sauce and he was probably a little too smug when Stiles dropped the fresh cutlery he had been carrying.

Derek was almost a hundred percent sure now that Stiles got too much pleasure out of this than was professional and although a part of him was a little miffed that Stiles had initially played with him – used him, to be strictly fair – without his knowledge, he also acknowledged that he technically could have said no at any time. He could have refused any dish Stiles had set in front of him so far and no one had held a gun to his head to force him to eat three garlic knots before the starters had even arrived.

He was interested if Stiles did this often, and how long he was able to pull it off before someone caught on to him, but that could maybe come later. Right now, he was definitely on to the lanky waiter and two could most definitely play this game.

Susan, Robert, and Lucy had each ordered the Salad Nicoise before their entrees and Derek was in no way surprised when, instead of a salad, Stiles placed a large plate of Anti Pasto in front of him. It looked like two portions at least, thick slices of cheese, ham, salami, and pickled bell peppers, artichokes, dried tomatoes, and olives. Again, Derek took his time eating them, cutting the cheese into small slices and nibbling on the dried tomatoes.

He knew from experience now that going quickly would be more effective in terms of actually getting stuffed, but he hadn’t eaten the entire day and felt confident that he could tide himself over until he was alone, at which point he planned to seriously step up his game.

He was halfway finished with the Anti Pasto when his companions got their entrees and only had a slice of cheese left when Stiles cleared away their dessert plates, giving him curious glances every now and then. As expected, Robert and Lucy left right after and Susan stayed until he had actually finished the cheese before apologizing again for having to leave.

“This baby makes me hungry and I’m afraid I just didn’t have the patience to eat slower today,” she said and Derek smiled warmly at her, telling her it was fine and he definitely understood. When Susan had gone Derek looked up at Stiles expectantly, who had come to claim the empty appetizer plate.

“Are you still hungry?” Stiles asked carefully and Derek flashed him a big grin.

“I haven’t even started yet,” he declared and Stiles inhaled deeply and clapped his hands together.

“Alright then,” he said, and two minutes later Derek was sitting in front of a decent-sized serving of spinach linguine with pesto sauce and cherry tomatoes. It wasn’t as massive as the pasta dish that had made him full to the point of pain on the second day and, as he had promised himself, he began to eat quicker, his mouth steadily engaged in chewing and swallowing.

When he sat the fork down for the last time he leaned back and felt his stomach experimentally, trying to gage how much room he had left. Stiles, who had come to clear away the plate, lingered next to him, empty plate clutched in his hands and eyes trained on Derek’s stomach, which was actually beginning to push against the buttons of his slightly too small shirt.

“What’s the verdict?” he asked, his voice lower than normal and Derek held his gaze steadily, reaching up to gently pat the top of his stomach.

“Still room for more,” he decided and he did not miss the way Stiles’ knuckles whitened briefly as he clutched the empty plate even firmer.

“I can work with that,” the waiter said and Derek nodded with what he hoped was an encouraging smile. The restaurant was beginning to clear out and Derek figured that they would not have much time left, as the kitchen was bound to close soon.

Stiles served the next course and he all but wolfed down the grilled tomato filled with spicy buffalo meat and slathered in melted cheese, as well as the accompanying steamed vegetables. His entire stomach had rounded out now, pushing over the waistband of the jeans and making the buttons of the shirt strain to a point where Derek was almost afraid to take a deep breath. He knew he would have to stop soon, could tell his skin was already stretched taut over his full stomach, but most of the people would be in the casino or the theater or one of the bars right now and suddenly he really wanted to see if he could actually pop the button.

Derek imagined what Stiles’ face would look like if he did, if his bulging stomach actually popped one of the buttons and he walked out of the restaurant with a bloated, round belly, and a gaping hole showing his tightly stretched skin. The image turned him on to the point where he could actually feel himself getting hard and he discreetly rearranged the napkin over his lap.

The waistband of his jeans was really digging into his flesh now and he reached under the napkin to pop the button, watching as his stomach expanded. He was almost sure the button popping was going to happen any second now but no, the shirt stayed intact, even though he could definitely see a stretch of tanned belly above his navel, the sides of the shirt no longer meeting everywhere.

Derek traced his finger along the revealed flesh and lightly scratched it, suppressing a grin when he heard what almost sounded like a choked off sob behind him.

“I think I’m done with solid food for tonight,” Derek mused out loud, “but somehow I am really craving a last cup of soup before I leave.” It was a test, really, Derek was sure they were no longer preparing soup in the kitchen at this point, since it had been part of the appetizer course that had been served almost an hour and a half ago, but something was telling him that Stiles would move mountains to bring him what he desired.

He wasn’t disappointed. It took Stiles about five minutes to return and the warm bowl of soup he sat in front of Derek was a creamy tomato bisque, with a very generous helping of whipped cream sitting on top of it.

“I know I should have said something earlier, but it really just occurred to me now,” Derek said while he stirred the cream into the soup, intent on keeping Stiles at the table. He wanted to see the man’s face when he sat the spoon down next to the bowl, picked it up with both hands and set it against his lips. The temperature was just right and he began to drink the soup slowly, never setting down the bowl and keeping his eyes trained on Stiles.

It was maybe a bit risky but Derek wanted to be more than a hundred percent sure about what he was dealing with before he decided how to proceed and this seemed like the best way to find out. Stiles didn’t notice – he was too fixated on Derek’s throat and belly, staring at the way Derek’s throat moved as he swallowed, swallowed, swallowed.

It had been a rather large bowl and Derek could actually feel his stomach swelling up even more, could tell by the increasing tightness of the shirt and the sweet pressure inside of him. When he finally set the cup down Stiles was breathing through his nose quickly, his fingers twitching at his side as if he wanted to plant his hands right on Derek’s taut skin. Derek had barely come up for breath as he swallowed the soup and now he inhaled deeply, pushing up his stomach as far as he could and he exhaled in relief when two of the middle buttons sprang from the shirt with a dull plop, exposing the hollow of his navel and the fuzzy skin of his belly.

Although he had actually wanted this to happen Derek was suddenly a bit embarrassed and he blushed, his hand coming up automatically to cover the exposed skin. Stiles’ eyes were half-lidded when he dropped to his knees in front of him, fingers blindly looking for the buttons and his eyes never leaving Derek’s tight, bloated stomach. When he found the buttons he half-turned towards Derek, still kneeling in front of him.

He was close, closer than he had been when he was standing and when his tongue darted out to wet his lips, Derek realized that it would only take one little lean forward and Stiles’ lips would be on his belly. In his mind he saw the lips mouthing kisses at his bulging stomach, before moving down and paying attention to the bulge in his pants. Stiles wouldn’t even have to move if he wanted to take him into his mouth and god, Derek wanted him to, wanted him to cradle his belly with his hands and massage the tension away as he went down on him.

When Stiles looked up and their eyes met Derek just knew that he would have done it if he had asked, but the spell was suddenly broken by a loud clanging noise. It was followed by heated, raised voices almost immediately and someone yelled Stiles’ name from the other side of the restaurant. Stiles shook his head as if he was in a daze and the look he shot Derek before getting up and moving towards the young waiter, who had apparently spilled berry sauce over a woman’s dress and was now receiving a verbal spanking, spoke of regret, intrigue, and arousal.

Derek didn’t know what to feel as he slowly stood up, buttoned his jeans under his belly with some difficulty, and made his way out of the restaurant, his hand lying flat above the ruined part of the shirt to hide his overindulgence, although it was almost a moot point considering the revealing way the tailored shirt clung to his round and bloated belly.

His blush deepened when he caught sight of himself in the elevator mirror, took in the sweat that was once again beading on his forehead, the way his eyes were glazed over in lust and the beginning of a food coma and of course his belly, more prominent even than yesterday, which actually looked like he had swallowed a small watermelon. He looked – he couldn’t even put it into words. Standing here in the lift alone, still half-hard and trying to hide both his arousal and the gap in his shirt, he felt a little embarrassed, yet he knew that if Stiles had been in the lift with him, gangly form draped all over his bulky one and long-fingered hands caressing his skin, he would have felt incredibly sexy and turned on.

No, Derek decided when he exited the lift and walked towards his stateroom, fortunate once again not to run into anyone, he was turned on without Stiles’ presence just fine, and when he stood in the center of his stateroom, admiring himself with the help of the three mirrors that were placed in a way which allowed him to see himself from all angles, he felt very desirable. The pressure in his stomach, mostly caused by the half liter of soup he had drunk in one go, was definitely noticeable, but not too distracting and he felt almost drunk with food, surprised that that was even a thing.

He dipped his finger into his exposed belly button and rubbed firm circles into it, while his other hand palmed at his erection. It felt good, but he wanted to experiment more before getting off and so he took off the shirt and turned sideways, right hand still rubbing against his dick while the left roamed his stomach, rubbing large circles into the protrusion.

Curious, he rested his right hand on the top of his stomach while the left cradled the underside of his belly and in this position he looked more pregnant than 5-months pregnant Susan – minus the boobs, of course. He shook his head with a snort, right hand dropping back to his dick and rubbing, reminding himself that he was a man and that was probably a good thing. He hoped Stiles didn’t have a pregnancy fetish, because that was just a little too out there for him. Then again, what Stiles thought on the subject really didn’t matter, Derek reminded himself with a sad smile.

His left hand poked and prodded the rock-hard bulge sitting at the top of his belly and that actually made him a little nauseous so he stopped and let his hand glide back down his sides. He brought up his other hand and kneaded his fingers into his belly, marveling at how different it felt. He tried to bend over and found his full stomach in the way, as well as his pants, which pinched him quite severely in this position.

Derek groaned when he straightened back up and undid the button, pushing them down towards his ankles and stepping out of them. His belly wasn’t hanging over his boxer briefs, but pushed outwards above it and when he freed his erection from the underwear, the head of his dick slapped against the protrusion.

Having successfully ridden himself of his underwear, Derek climbed on his bed with a grunt, and got on all fours, gasping when he felt the pull of his full stomach. He imagined what it would be like to be taken by Stiles like this, the man’s hands folded under his belly and holding him up, helping him carry the weight. His thighs trembled and he knew he was getting closer, and so he pushed himself up until he was sitting back on his haunches, his dick pressed flush against his belly.

Situating himself so he had an excellent view in the big mirror on the wall over the bed, he began to stroke himself with one hand, the other playing with his belly and imagining it was Stiles’ hand instead. On a whim he grasped the side of his stomach in a way that allowed him to dig his fingers into the soft flesh while his middle fingers was plunging into his belly button and when he bent his finger and lightly scratched the inside of the sensitive skin he came with a sob, shooting his release all over his hands and stomach.

Getting up and cleaning his belly and dick with a warm washcloth was a herculean task and by the time he dropped back onto the bed he did not even bother to put on underwear. Like last night he lay on his side, having found that the position was the most comfortable for his full stomach and he lightly stroked it until he fell asleep, thinking about what would happen at next day’s dinner.

 


End file.
